Aiden Potter and the Secrets of Magic
by izukus
Summary: Aiden Potter, younger twin of Harry Potter, goes to Durmstrang and from there—chaos ensues. A series following the twin of Harry Potter, told in a mixed style of JK Rowling and myself. Updates sporadically. [Book One of the Aiden Potter Series.]
1. Chapter 1

_And he greeted death like an __**old friend—**_The faded grey lettering of the book jumped out as he ran his fingers along the pages that were worn down from years of use. Magic could fix it, just a single wave of a wand, but when a book was passed down from each generation to the next, steadily growing older and older as days go by then you have no want to fix it up with magic. Instead, the book carries its own magic, neither flashy and bright like most spells are nor big and foreboding like the Dark Arts, it was more of a warm feeling spread along its pages, knowing that before you had it, your father had it and before he did, your grandfather had it and even before Old Man Potter opened it, _his _father had it.

Given from one son to another, it was something that every child of the Potter family had and something that signified their journey to becoming who they wanted to be. The first brother, who wanted power and recognition with the wand of elder, the second brother who had yearned to meet his lost love once more or maybe, you were like the last brother who wanted nothing more than to hide from death and when his time had come, just like the book in his hands, he passed down his cloak to his only daughter and greeted death like an old friend.

Dragging his fingers against the last few words of the ending page once more, Aiden closed the book when he heard knocks on his bedroom door, three with the knuckles and two with the heel of the hand. He gave a flittering glance at the piece of wood lying on the blankets, reaching for it slowly only for the knocks to get louder, as if whoever was behind the door was as impatient to have him answer as he was afraid.

Pushing himself off the bed, he could feel the cold floor tickle his feet. The wind behind him howled and he stumbled along to the noise of three knocks which got louder and louder the more time passed.

He swung the door open at last, eyes losing all sorts of color, a bead of sweat already appearing over his brow, his feet instinctively stepped back and the bedroom shattered until it was only him and the boy with the ruby red eyes.

The child was pale, his eyes such a distinctive color of red that Aiden felt himself get lost in how they stared at him. His brows were furrowed, his hair a mess of unruly black, and then came the pale black clothes he wore—_robes, they're called robes, they look quite muggle however—a suit? _He didn't know why he was thinking about whatever the hell the eleven year old before him was wearing but he was and his grip on the doorknob lessened until his hand slipped from it entirely and the door shattered into pieces too.

_"Aiden," _the boy hissed.

A forked tongue slipped past his lips and Aiden was no stranger to the language he shared with such a strange child. Hissing and speaking in odd little mannerisms had never been something that he was overly fond of but it was real and he supposed he had to deal with the reality of it all. The boy stared at him with a perplexed expression on his face, red eyes now narrowed as Aiden matched his expression that had been given mere moments before. Their eyes met, green against red, and with a mere shrug, Aiden watched as the boy fidgeted before him, shrinking as skin began to flake.

"_You know," _he murmured, "_You're my best friend, right?" _

And the cat's eyes flashed a brilliant red.

Emerald green eyes shot open to stare at a blurry red ceiling. Reaching to his bedside, Aiden snatched up the thin wire glasses that sat on a book. He pushed them up his nose, sitting up just in time to see the ashen black form of a cat at the foot of his bed. "Oh," he muttered, "thought you would have liked to stay in and sleep more." The cat simply stared, the dark blue eyes watching his every move.

Swinging his legs over the bed again, Aiden rubbed at his forehead—a place of constant pain when he awoke from his strange dreams. He didn't know why it hurt whenever he woke up but his concern, at the ripe age of eleven years old, wasn't about some sort of dream and why he was having phantom pains over it. No, instead, his concern lay in what most other eleven year olds would dread—school. More specifically, the magical institution of Durmstrang, one of the finest schools in Scandinavia and Aiden's dream school ever since he had turned three years old.

He didn't know what about Durmstrang that had attracted him for so long but he did know that all he wanted was to be able to be a student of the prime magical schools in all of Europe. The cat meowed as it followed him off the bed, blue eyes focusing on his every move while it wound itself around his legs and walked off to the shadows in the corner of his room.

Gazing back at his bed, Aiden stared at the empty spot where a wand should have been, a lopsided smile gracing his face. "Wish all things could come over from my lucid dreaming," he sighed as he began to unbutton his pajama shirt—staring a little too long at the potion vials clinking together—, "but at least I have you—so that counts for something."

Pulling the shirt off, he yawned as his legs took him out the bedroom, into the bathroom and in front of a mirror where the cat from earlier jumped on top of the sink, ash dust floating in the air. He frowned at the dust before nudging the cat off to get the blue toothpaste and brush. He brushed his teeth in a quick manner, eventually finishing everything he needed to do in the bathroom and racing back to his own room for a pair of fresh clothes.

It was only when he was digging through the large wardrobe for something to wear that he heard his name being called causing his head to slam against the wooden shelf with a loud thud. He winced as the pain blossomed and climbed out when his mother seemed to call out for him once more.

"Are you okay in there? I heard a crash?"

"Ja," he murmured as he pulled out nice, clean robes. Pulling them on quickly, Aiden didn't even bother with his hair and picked up the black cat that had waltzed into the room after him, racing down the stairs just in time to bump into his mother whose eyes widened at the disheveled look of her adopted son.

She looked ready to reprimand him for sleeping in late when her eyes landed on the cat that had begun to slither its way to stay around Aiden's shoulders. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she backed away considerably as it stared at her, ash dust coating the air around the eleven year old. Aiden's eyes followed her movement before they looked away, a flicker of fire burning in his green eyes.

"Aiden," she huffed, "you can't just keep—"

"So," Aiden interrupted, "did my letter come, mum?"

Her eyes lingered on the boy before she sighed and waved her wand to the stairs. Aiden ducked when something went whizzing past his head and jumped to his feet as his mother held the dark red letter in her thin fingers. His eyes widened before he ran over to snatch it from her, ripping it open and reading it over and over. The letters for Durmstrang weren't typical invitation letters like those of his mother's old school—instead they were crisp and neat and were acceptance letters that told of the supplies you would need and even allowed you to sign your own name stating that you would attend.

Thankfully, Aiden's name had already been signed at the bottom—courtesy of his adopted mother—and he grinned excitedly as he folded the letter up and put it into his robe pocket. "Wand, then?" He questioned as his mother rose a brow and clicked her tongue. He paused, confusion lacing his eyes, before gaining a sheepish smile and turning towards the dining table. "I meant breakfast," he coughed, "breakfast, then?"

An hour or two later, after eating his fill of eggs and French toast, Aiden found himself looking over the letter of acceptance that Durmstrang had sent him. The envelope was red while the letter itself was a whitish beige color. He could see his name written out clearly in cursive at the top and then below that was a whole body of text explicitly stating how they would love to have him within their school. The crest of the school was on the very top of the letter and he could see that another paper rested behind it, a large detailing of the supplies needed from a wand to a Quidditch broom and lots of warm clothing.

A low noise snapped him from staring at the letter to peering down at the ashen black cat before his feet. Its eyes stared up at him, not curious but not mad either, and with a blink, Aiden folded the letter and picked it up, not minding when the cat lounged on his shoulders. Instead, he rubbed his forehead and pushed himself off the bed again, still too eager to get his very own wand. He knew that his mother said getting your first wand wasn't that exciting if you knew you were magical but Aiden begged to differ and excitedly raced down the stairs again to meet the grey haired woman he called his mother.

"Someone's excited," she hummed, "but you know, I still don't think it's something to worry over—"

"The Portkey's flashing _red_, Mamma!"

She turned around to face the discarded book on the floor. It was indeed flashing a bright red color and without hesitation, though she wanted to at the sight of the black cat around her son's shoulders, she soon snatched it up in her arms, holding onto Aiden as they disappeared in a flash of bright, white light.

The house remained silent as the two vanished away before the fireplace flickered and bright green flames licked at the air.


	2. Chapter 2

A white light flashed in the snowy village before two figures appeared from out of nowhere, the smaller one immediately falling to the ground. Aiden gave a cough, hands sliding against the icy ground as his mother glanced at him, dusting flakes of snow off her dress robes. He scrambled to his feet, shaking off his clothes and patting down his hair as best as he could.

The cat that he had brought with him attempted to clean her coat, though she stuck to the shadows. Gazing around them, all Aiden could deduce was that they were in a village filled with snow and that it was as cold as being locked in a fridge. He gave a sniff, attention jumping around the crowd of red robed witches and wizards walking around, some of them holding onto the hands of kids his age or even younger.

"Aiden," his mother said, snapping him from his sight-seeing, "we're here to get a wand, you know, not look at all the passerby."

Blinking up at her, he pushed his glasses up his nose with a huff. He knew they were here to get a wand, wherever here was, and while he was supposed to be bouncing up and down in joy, a pit of nerves grown tangled within his stomach and he looked away pointedly as the snow crunched under their moving feet. The silence was unnerving, and the woman glanced behind her with furrowed brows.

"Aiden?" She stopped walking, her son bumping into her, "Are you alright? You seem... upset."

The tone of worry in his mother's voice made Aiden wince. He kicked at the snow, allowed the cat to slink over to his shoulders despite the warning gaze of his mother, and nodded briefly with the tiniest hint of a smile. Worrying over a wand choosing was not something his mother needed to deal with and after an inquisitive look, the woman sighed and turned on her heel to continue walking. His cat nudged him, tail sliding across his back, and Aiden subconsciously gave into the comfort—not bothering to look at the way his boots made rectangular prints on the snow with deep lines running across it.

Instead, he found himself thinking on what would happen come later tonight. After his wand, he was sure that he would be getting his uniforms next and the other supplies needed. He knew that the boat for Durmstrang left at night to avoid suspecting idiotic muggles, though he didn't know why they couldn't just make the boat invisible. Although he supposed that watching a bunch of eleven year olds march up to an invisible boat would strike confusion into any muggles nearby. He felt around his robe pocket for the letter, pulling it out to gaze over the supply list. He needed a wand, as all wizards do, black pants,a red buttoned up vest, a beige button-up shirt, hooded fur robes and hats—potion vials, textbooks of all sorts—and he had even read something about being able to bring a pet to school, an owl or a cat or a dog. He knew that the more exotic animals like a wolf or an eagle were still allowed, granted they were trained accordingly not to bite and peck people.

Apart from the basic equipment, Durmstrang was seemingly much well aquatinted with things that did not need their attention. There were no cauldrons on the list and most of the things were standard and normal equipment. There was an option to buy a quidditch broom though Aiden didn't seem very confident with getting on a Quidditch team. Instead, Aiden was looking rather forward to the sorting that would take place, wondering in his head how it would all happen.

Would he be facing off against other students? Was there going to be a tournament to see which house wanted him? He knew that his mother's old school did their sorting with something called a 'sorting hat', and that it seemed to speak into your mind, but would Durmstrang be the same way?

His brows furrowed at the thought—The high sought after school was already different from plain old Hogwarts. Hogwarts had a fancy red train and you actually had to pay money to get your own sweets—though he didn't know if the boat for Durmstrang was the same— and there was a disgusting house prejudice among the school. Though Durmstrang was reminiscent of what he knew of Hogwarts.A low meow distracted him from his thoughts and he peered down at the ashen cat curiously. It was winding itself through his legs and scratching the back of his head, Aiden murmured as he followed after his grey haired mother.

He hadn't noticed her stop until he bumped straight into her. He looked up and furrowed his brows in confusion. "Hey, why did you stop—" he stopped himself from finishing the sentence as he peered over his mother's side and caught sight of a desolate home. The windows were cracked and snow was everywhere in the home, rotting the wood from where it melted and pushing through the broken door.. "Uh," he coughed, "what are we doing here?"

"For a Port-Key of course,Why else would we come here?" His mother eyed him quizzically before she stepped forward and pushed the broken door away from her. Aiden watched with apprehension before ducking into the home right after. "We should be seeing it somewhere—" his mother's voice sounded a tad bit annoyed, "—such an odd friend of mine hides his things in such... unsavory conditions."

Aiden didn't know who this friend was, but he did know that he wanted to leave the broken wood was rotting and a horrible smell of pungent dirty socks and moldy fruit wafted around the air. He had to stand on a broken beam of wood so his black robes didn't get dirty with grime. Eventually, after his mother disappeared up the steps that looked like they would cave under her weight, she returned with a single quill in her hands.

"A quill?" Aiden spluttered, "_that's _the key?!"

His mother raised a single brow and Aiden flushed red, looking away and murmuring an apology. She didn't seem to be too phased by his abrupt and rather rude exclamation, only grabbing her son by the arm and staring at the odd creature that was on his shoulders with a frown. The port-key flashed before she twirled it in her fingers and they disappeared ,once again, in bright white light.

This time, when they landed, Aiden could tell that they were still in a snowy part of Scandinavia, though there were no houses or people he could see. No, instead there was a vast amount of nothing except for large evergreen trees. He blinked, staring at the expanse of trees, before focusing his attention on his mother who had started to walk down the small slope they had found themselves on.

He wanted to ask where they were going but shut his mouth. His mother seemed concentrated and he had no idea what would happen if that was broken by his excessive questions. Instead, he followed her as she walked into the evergreen forest and watched the footprints his feet made on the snow—prints that his cat were unable to make. He kicked up a few feet of snow, pulling out the letter again as he scanned his eyes across it. He had seen that the snowy village was more like a strange marketplace than anything else and wondered why he couldn't have just gotten a wand from a store there.

"Uh Mamma-" Aiden coughed, "couldn't I have gotten a wand from the marketplace back in the village?"

There was a pause before the woman shook her head and spoke, "Typically, you would get a wand from a marketplace if you were born any later than 1976, however," she cleared her throat as they continued to trek through the strange snowy forest.

"The wand maker, Gregorovitch had agreed to help make one final wand for you of his own hands instead of the wands that were simply recreated in his image." She seemed happy as she said the words before her voice dropped low in annoyance.

"Unfortunately, the old man hides his port-keys like they're forgettable trash and for some reason—" she pointed to the trees that loomed over them, "He's gone and sent us far off, possibly north, simply because he doesn't want to be found, odd if you ask me."

Aiden tried to process the information, his nerves getting the best of him. He tried to smooth down his hair, dust down any snow on him, even wipe his glasses clean. To be meeting the retired wand maker was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and Aiden wanted to make a perfect impression. His mother glanced behind her with a chuckle before gesturing ahead of them where the path opened up to a large clearing of snow and rocks that had grown upwards.

The light that filtered through the trees made it look as if the ground was glittering with thousands of fresh crystals. Branches of the evergreen trees were dragging across the ground by the sheer weight of snow on top of it. The stones looked like they were placed there for something. The stones themselves formed a wide circle and as Aiden kept staring at them, a ripple went through the air before a brief flash of light appeared, dissolving to show an elderly man, his beard white and cut, with a bag in his hands, the drawstring still in his fingers.

"Cassiopeia," the man sighed, "only for you would I ever leave my lovely home." His eyes focused on Aiden for a brief second before he went back to looking at Cassiopeia.

Gregorovitch stared at him as he spoke. "I take it, this is the boy? Aiden Potter, if I am not mistaken?" He didn't allow Cassiopeia to speak before he was back to talking once more, "Come, child."

Aiden looked nervously at his mother, but her nudge to walk forward was enough for him to do so. He walked slowly, snow crunching underneath his boots as he stood in front of the old man who eyed him curiously. Slowly, Gregorovitch stepped back until it was only Aiden in the center of the stone circle and he opened up the bag he had with him, the wands flying out of their boxes and floating above the stones. Each wand had a different aura, some silver or red, but Aiden's eyes were glued to one that didn't look to be any different. It was a pale colored wand with a hue that glowed with a strange aura, deep white with flickers of flaming green spinning around the top as if it was some sort of staff:

A cold wind swept through the stone circle, ruffling Aiden's hair and robes which fluttered in the air. He peered through the snow that had lifted off from the ground and looked at all the stones around him. His eyes bounced along each stone only for him to realize that Gregorovitch was nowhere to be seen. The only thing he could see was the bag the old man had been holding with the wand boxes spilled out on the snow.

Aiden's heart leapt into his chest, pounding against his rib cage. "H..hello?" His voice sounded shaky to his ears and he stumbled to one of the stones. "Mamma?" He could see no one, and his blood was beginning to run cold. Had they left him?

Then a noise caught his attention.

Staring down at where it came from, Aiden was met with the blue eyes of his cat. The ashen feline leaped unto one of the stones, its tail waving,eyes filled with something that Aiden couldn't quite understand.

"Tom." its eyes flashed red, tail flicking in the air as Aiden murmured once more, "Which wand should I choose?" The strange language that left his lips was foreign to his ears yet in the soft accent of Sweden, it carried through the air as the cat hissed and jumped over to one of the stones, the pale wand being moved by its paw.

The boy blinked before leaning forward on his toes. He wrapped his fingers around the floating wand, tugging, on it. A large explosion took place, one that knocked Aiden back into the snow—the stone that the wand was floating above having a large and jagged crack running through it, ending right where Aiden was struggling to process what just happened.

Aiden's mouth dropped open and without warning, the air rippled before cold wind slammed into him, almost knocking him off his feet as he went to stand up, and there his mother and Gregorovitch stood, the latter with wide eyes and an air of excitement all around him.

"Magnificent!" Gregorovitch exclaimed as he walked forward to take Aiden's new wand from him. His eyes were wide as he whirled around to peer down at the shocked ginger and opened his mouth to speak.

"By any chance, , are you related to the _Boy Who Lived?" _

Aiden blinked at the sudden question. It hadn't been one he heard often when introducing himself to any person, mainly because sweden pure bloods did not care about whatever happened in Britain. Although the news of Harry Potter defeating the Dark Lord had been gossiped to the point where it reached the American lands for all he knew. He remembered the way his mother told him the story, how he was found crying in his crib and was taken away from all the fame and glamour. 'Fame came at a price,' she had said that night as he asked her why he didn't live with the other boy, 'and that price is losing your humility.'

He didn't get any questions in Sweden. There was no one asking him if he remembered what happened, no one asking him if he was related to the famous child of Britain, and there was certainly no one who made him feel like he was inadequate within the world, and where he could venture into his own territory without being in the shadow of his older brother.

At least, that's how it had been.

Instead, Gregorovitch questioned him about his sure-fire relations to Harry, and Aiden felt his heart sink into his stomach as he scuffed at the snow with his foot. "Um, yes," Aiden muttered, "I'm his younger brother,Sir."

Gregorovitch's eyes glinted before he gave a laugh of amusement. He waved his hand once, making a come hither motion, and an old box floated over. "How ever so curious—" he murmured as he inspected the light coloring of the chosen wand, "You, my dear child, have more to you than meets the eye—Eight inches long, Augurey Tail feather with silver lime as your wood, an interesting pair for a mysterious child like yourself," he stepped forward, eyes glinting with excitement, "An excellent choice, Mr. Potter."

The man chuckled before pulling out a single gold coin. "The Port-Key back to the village, Cassiopeia," his looked humorously to Aiden, "don't lose it in the snow, old woman."

Before Cassiopeia could hassle the man for his word choice, Gregorovitch had disappeared, thus leaving them in the forest with a gold coin stuck in the snow. She huffed, grumbling to herself as she picked up the coin and Aiden soon saddled up by her side. She glanced nervously at the cat that was plunged around Aiden's shoulders once more, before eventually shaking it off as a white light enveloped them for the third time that day.

This time, when they landed, Aiden made sure to try and stabilize himself before he fell into the snow, his hands already freezing from earlier. Holding his new wand, he took a look around and was already noticing how large the marketplace really was. There were stores that sold winter robes and cordial uniforms, windows that displayed frozen eyeballs and fish guts, large displays of racing brooms fit for the cold season, telescopes and journals for research and the very store he was looking for—Durmstrang school uniforms.

The sign swung gently from the breeze, the name of the store rolling off his tongue with ease. His mother looked over at him, brows raised, before she shook her head and opened the door, the bell ringing as she did so. Peering into the shop, the first thing that Aiden noticed was the smell. It had a scent of pumpkin spice and freshly bought wood. Walking through the store, the warmth enveloped him, as if his mother was hugging him through a cold winter storm. He tried to find where the source of the warmth was and his eyes landed on the fireplace that was kindling in the middle of two shelf aisles. Finding the fireplace, however, had also allowed Aiden to take a look around. There were large shelves five feet apart from each other and each one had a little drawing on the side, Aiden supposed it was to show where things were.

He looked up, noticing the swinging chandeliers of the store that lit the place up like a fairy garden. As the scent of pumpkin spice and a thrumming warmth enveloped him, Aiden began walking to one of the nearest shelves—a design of dark grey gloves on the side. Coming closer, he realized that there were certain bumps on the drawing and his amazement soon morphed itself into confusion. He wanted to ask what the bumps were for and looked around for anyone he could talk to. When no one seemed to available, or in the shop for all he knew, his shoulders sagged and he took a step forward.

And crashed right into a body.

A noise left him as he fell to the floor and heard the sound of a rushed apology. Eyes having closed from the impact, he blinked up at the blurry image of dots before him. When they wouldn't turn back into the wall of the shop or a normal person, he patted the ground for his glasses. Upon finding them, unbroken thank the stars, he slipped them on and was able to see who he had accidentally shoved to the ground.

It was a girl from what he could tell, her blonde hair in a neat braid that draped over her left shoulder. The light caught against the periwinkle outfit she wore and she had her brows furrowed, displaying nothing but a light tone of worry. He blinked, eyes traveling to the hand she held out and as he continued to stare, her fingers curled and she frowned at him.

"Aren't you gonna take my hand to help you up? I don't have all day, you know." She grumbled.

His face flushed, ears burning something fierce, before he grabbed her hand—it was rough, calloused against his own—and she yanked him up to his feet with such strength that he nearly toppled over again.

She eyed him carefully, mint green eyes taking in his wrinkled robes and messy red hair. They lingered on his forehead before she scrunched up her nose and stepped back, kneeling down to pick up what Aiden finally noticed to be a pair of gloves.

"Well," she coughed, "It wasn't nice bumping into you, mystery boy."

Aiden opened his mouth to say something but before he could, the girl pressed her lips into a thin line and looked him over once more. "Watch where you're putting those legs next time." she huffed.

They stared at each other for a few minutes before the girl turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Aiden to stare after her in utter bewilderment.

_What had just happened? _


End file.
